


a numbers game

by wintrs



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Character Study, Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Monza 2020, just a couple of dudes who will never get a WDC but still whole-heartedly believe that they will, or: reasons why it is physically painful to watch F1 from an undeserved empathetic perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26375986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintrs/pseuds/wintrs
Summary: P5 and P7 will never be as simple as it sounds.
Relationships: Valtteri Bottas/Daniel Ricciardo
Comments: 9
Kudos: 37





	a numbers game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [babypapaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babypapaya/gifts).



> for the one who dragged me into this ship kicking and screaming, because who else could this have been for. i implore the rest of you to go read rallyfic if you haven't already because You Will Be Changed.

Valtteri prefers to be alone after races.

He’d say he prefers to be alone in general, actually, but it’s more concentrated after a race. Nearly without fail, Sunday comes with a diminuendo that’s easier to deal with on Monday. He’ll have his one last coffee tonight, sit on the couch for a reasonable amount of time until it’s time to go to bed, and when he wakes up he’ll feel more like a person again. It’s a process.

An easily interrupted process.

“Aww, VB, why the long face?” Daniel asks, stepping into Valtteri’s motorhome like he owns it.

Valtteri spares himself a moment of surprise. He’d given Daniel the key, but. Still. 

“You’re the one who has a long face,” he says, in lieu of any of that. “I didn’t expect you.”

“Well, not much to go over this time. Still not a podium.” Daniel sighs. “We really missed it today.”

Valtteri nods. He’s referring to Renault, of course, but it would be simple enough to include Valtteri’s P5 in there and pretend a “miss” fully covers it.

“Happy for the kids, though, Pierre’s had this a long time coming,” Daniel soldiers on, used to the amiable quiet of Valtteri’s company. “I’d have loved to see Horner’s face when he crossed the line, Jesus--talk about rubbing it in.”

“I don’t know that you can call him a kid anymore, just because you’re old,” Valtteri says, although Daniel isn’t wrong anyway. Valtteri remembers his own first win, the unspeakable high of it, as does Daniel. Valtteri would just feel a little bit more altruistic if it were later in the season and the 15 points he’d fucked away didn’t matter much.

Daniel chuckles and steps further into the motorhome, and Valtteri knows what he’s going to do before he does it. Valtteri is standing at the counter, waiting for his coffee to finish, and when Daniel sees him like this it’s always the same. The predictability doesn’t stop him from bristling like a wary cat when Daniel wraps his arms around his waist and hooks his chin over his shoulder.

“So it’s like this,” Valtteri says. “You want something?”

Daniel hums. “If you want it to be. But I was thinking we’d just hang a bit? Cuddle?”

The coffee machine beeps. “I suppose.”

They end up on the couch not-quite-cuddling, but close enough to be clearly incriminating should anyone walk in. Valtteri sips his coffee as Daniel chatters away beside him, and he would be thoroughly pissed off if it were anyone else, but he’s no more moody than he was when Daniel walked in. For better or worse, he’s become more than adept at tuning Daniel out by now--although even if he wanted to listen, he probably wouldn’t be able to. P5, P5, P5. 

Nobody had been mad at him. They’d known the car wasn’t going to be perfect in dirty air, that it was built to run at the front and nowhere else. Nobody had wondered out loud, either, but surely they’re thinking it. Valtteri is.

P5, P7. Only one place separating them in the end, and luck and circumstance don’t read out in numbers. P5, P7.

And P6 belongs to the man pressed into Valtteri’s side, going on about Seb’s new scooter or dog or something. 

“It’s pretty cute, obviously, and tempting. Every day I get closer to caving,” Daniel says. “But I don’t want to be a bad dog dad, and I can just play with Fanni when I want to. Or Roscoe.”

“Fanni,” Valtteri says. His coffee is gone, and he wouldn’t typically have another when it’s solidly evening, but Daniel makes him want to. 

Daniel doesn’t respond, and when Valtteri glances over he’s grinning at him cheekily, pleased with the trap he’d laid. It sends the normal begrudging wash of fondness through him, but Valtteri prickles with it anyway. P5.

“Why don’t we get into bed and watch trash TV,” Daniel says. “Or a race recap or something.”

Valtteri eyes his coffee cup. Eventually, he nods, and Daniel bundles them both up and into the adjoining bedroom, Valtteri letting himself be led. 

He and Daniel, together, had been unexpected at best. After years of nothing but a rivalry, what could possibly be expected? But some things are bigger than petty lower series rivalries, apparently, like being habitually compared to “generational talents.” There’s a kinship to it, to the equal parts  _ firm second driver _ and  _ well, he’s still good, it’s just his teammate _ . 

Valtteri wonders if they’d say he was running from a fight, too, if he left.

“If you won’t let me watch Love Island, can I at least talk about it? Maybe I can lull you to sleep,” Daniel says, flopping backward into the bed in his stupidly Renault-colored boxers.

“You are insufferable,” Valtteri says, meaning it entirely, but when Daniel beckons he crawls in after him. He’s insufferable and insufferably bony, and Valtteri’s motorhome bed is actually very comfortable alone, but he still allows himself to be folded into Daniel’s embrace.

“I know it’s annoying, but listen, last week they added this twist where the two safe couples have to vote on who to kick off,” Daniel says. “It was intense, everybody was crying, and—”

Valtteri closes his eyes. He supposes they wouldn’t consider it running from a fight, if he left. It’s always looked more like a beating. P5 and P7 will never be as simple as it sounds. But it’s more manageable, like this, when Daniel is holding him and Valtteri gets to decide for himself to feel small.

**Author's Note:**

> num·bers game (n): a situation in which the most important factor is how many of a particular thing there are, especially when you disapprove of this


End file.
